Diliculum
by vividfantasy7
Summary: Even though her monsters had been vanquished the demons of the past still haunt her. Izira centric.


Izira dealing with shit - bc after the voltron hc i realised she _is_ Shiro, only space dad only got one year of hell, she's got a decade and a probs lot more dedicated lunatic on her case

also, fanbabies belong to kirei (kireiscorner on tumblr, kirenotsuki on ffnet)

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She wakes in cold sweat and in the horrid dungeons under the Ephedian Palace. Gramorr is standing on the edges of the prison not even trying to mask his sick pleasure and amusement as he watches as his minions fill the place and the pain begins. She hears thunder roar and lightning dance on her skin and tear into her bones. A thousand needles stabs into her flesh, sharp and burning but she relents and keeps everything in, masking her pain with a withering glare at the man that caused all of her pain.

The memory of her parents' lifeless body, the more than likely possibility that her baby sister is gone, the knowledge that her land crumbled and burned because of this madman ignites the fire in her heart and her remaining magic rises and shields her, resists against the dark magic trying to penetrate her body, heart, mind and soul. But nevertheless, she is spent after weeks and months of captivity and despair and her power collapses when time turns unrecognizable and her mind succumbs to blissful darkness to the horrific melody of her own cries.

Izira comes to in cool sheets, her fingers messily tangling in white tresses and scraping at the skin of her skull. Her breathing is ragged and sporadic, her nerves astray and there's a hand on her frigid skin. _It's warm_ the Xerin's mind slowly registers as the world slowly refocuses and reality and dream separates. Her breath slowly steadies and the world refocuses - she looks up to the fingers clutching her shoulder and follows it with bleary eyes; up and up and up until she is met with startled olive orbs shining with unshed tears and suddenly she is engulfed in a warm embrace. She shuts her eyes tight and squeezes back mindful of her strength and the small body against her own. Warmth fills her heart as she wills her emotions into control and forces the nightmare, _the memory_ , into the back of her mind.

She doesn't remember much of her imprisonment, at least a year's (if not a few) worth of memories are missing - bits and pieces between unconsciousness and torture and Gramorr trying to force her into his service and under the influence of the dark crystals. Truth be told she doesn't mind missing that living nightmare and knows there are not much to be desired knowing about her time in the madman's hand - there are less materials for her nightly terrors this way - but there is one thing that she wishes to know with all her heart no matter how painful that memory would be, as it could mean she might have some clue for a remedy.

The small child burrows further in her arms and she reciprocates the embrace further; she also pushes down the horrible feeling that rises in her throat in weak moments like this, when she feels weak and worthless and a complete mess. She wishes with all her heart that Gramorr hadn't broken her beyond repair. But what is done is done and the past cannot be changed (he was the living example for that, after all).

Anastasia falls asleep while clinging to her aunt, small hands fisted into the Queen's night gown, tear tracks peppering her face. Izira lays next to the little girl lulling her mind into a dazed state between consciousness and dreams as her fingers run through light viridian tresses and over smooth skin. The child hiccups and wakes in a drowsy haze and the Queen sings a lullaby to calm her favourite niece.

It's a sleeping spell from ancient times, when song transfered magic instead of crystal, that her mother used to sing to her when nightmares woke her up in the night as a child - not older than Ana right now, before Talia was born and she could use her sister as a living plush toy to chase her bad dreams away. She let's the memories of a happy childhood seep in and overtake her mind as the child clinging to her eases back to sleep.

Izira spends hours lying in hazed awakeness, her mind far away from the palace as her hands keep the child in her embrace - an anchor to reality and the present - before she gets up and carries Anastasia to the twins' chambers.

She's only half surprised to find her sister-in-law with a similarly sleeping Damien in her arms. They exchange a quiet glance before they place the children into their beds. The silence that was once awkward now turns comfortable as queen and sorceress head to a quiet nook of the Royal Garden that has long turned their sanctuary.

They never speak during the time they spend here - there is only a silent companionship as both sink into their thoughts as their choice of beverage for the night either is gone or just gone cold - and it remains unbroken as the sun rises and they leave without a word. Than pretend like it never happened.

This morning is no different. Praxina heads to her chamber first, leaving Izira to watch as the morning sun lights the world in color. She lets a smile split her lips before she heads back to her own chamber.

After all, she is Queen with responsibilities and a whole kingdom's welfare hanging on her shoulders. She has battles to fight and the day just started - she has no time for the demons of the past to tie her down.

That battle was won a long time ago, now it's time to enjoy the gift of peace - for as long as it lasts.

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R&R guys :)


End file.
